


take heart, sweetheart

by forcynics



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, angst angst angst, implied alec/jace one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/pseuds/forcynics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(prompt: don't worry, i've seen what happens when people fall in love with you. we can keep it casual.)</p><p>Isabelle and Clary kiss behind closed doors and no one else knows about it. It's nothing serious, it's just a thing, even if it's a thing that makes Isabelle have feelings she tries to force away, because really, everyone can see what the end is going to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take heart, sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [shadowhunters ficathon](http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/83265.html)
> 
>  
> 
> [come say hi](http://storiesaboutwolves.tumblr.com)

 

 

There’s a middle-of-the-night hush throughout the Institute, everyone sound asleep without any clue that Isabelle is currently in Clary’s bed, her legs tangled up with Clary’s legs, her hand sliding up the small of Clary’s back underneath her pyjama top, her tongue down Clary’s throat.

Clary breaks off the kiss with a shaky little breath, wets her lips, twirls a locks of Isabelle’s hair through her fingers.

“So is this—” she starts, flushes – not her best look, with the red hair and the red cheeks, but her mouth twitches and it’s cute, everything about her uncertain little face is cute, as she realizes she’s doing it, she’s being the one of them to start The Talk.

“Is this, like, a thing now?”

It’s the second time they’ve made out, and when Isabelle showed up in her room a few minutes ago and pinned her up against her night-table, it was pretty clear from her surprised giggle that she hadn’t been sure if there would be a second time.

“Do you want this to be a _thing_ , Clary?” 

Isabelle makes her voice slow and teasing, scooches closer and slides her hand a little higher up Clary’s back, spreads her fingers so her thumb curls around her side.

Clary’s bright hair’s fanned out around her on the pillow. Her lips quirk into the tiniest smile, she pulls Isabelle back in for another kiss, and just before she can press that smile to Isabelle’s lips, she says—

“Yeah, let’s keep doing this.”

 

 

 

The first time Isabelle kissed Clary, they’d come stumbling home from the Downworlder party and a night of chasing vampires, reckless and giddy on adrenaline and relieved to be safe.

Isabelle slipped into Clary’s room and found her sitting on her bed, still in the tight black dress Isabelle lent her hours earlier.

“That’s a good look on you, Clary Fray,” she said, winked and dropped down beside her.

“Sorry, I should—give it back—” Clary started to say, blinking like she’d just been brought back to attention from some far away place. 

“Keep it,” Isabelle said impulsively. She hadn’t been planning on saying it until she did.

Clary started to protest and Isabelle rolled her eyes, shushed her with a finger to her lips. 

“I have more little black dresses than I could possibly count,” she told her, let her hand drop to Clary’s thigh, fingers curling over the hem of the dress. “Besides, it looks good on you in every single way. Should be yours.” She’d grinned, not knowing what she was doing, not knowing where she was going.

Clary was new and bright and shiny and she’d already managed to cause such a ruckus, the likes of which Isabelle could only admire. 

“That dress will get all the boys crawling after you,” Isabelle said it slowly, like a joke, like a dare, like trying to press the right button. 

Clary flushed on cue. “That’s not—I don’t want—”

 _Of course_ , Isabelle thought. _You’ve already got that, haven’t you?_

“Well, what _do_ you want?” she asked instead. And when Clary didn’t answer, just looked up at her a little helplessly, like it was a hopeless question, Isabelle gaged her moment, and she kissed her. 

And maybe Clary just didn’t want to think about the boys who wanted her, didn’t want to make decisions if someone else was willing to make them for her, but when she kissed Isabelle back it still felt like some kind of goddamn victory. 

 

 

 

It’s a little sad, the way Simon is so obvious about it. A lot sad, actually.

Isabelle isn’t sure whether she wants to get him drunk on tequila and listen to him spill all his tragic little feelings out or tell him to grow a spine and see the truth in front of him.

He’s not really her business, though.

Jace, now. _Jace_ is a lot more her business. Jace is treating Clary differently than she’s ever seen him treat anyone else, and she knows she’s not the only one who’s noticed – Jace isn’t much less than obvious Simon, but at least from the way Clary reacts to him it seems he might have better chances.

Isabelle considers if she should have told Jace already that she’s been kissing the girl he’s so clearly interested in. 

But it’s his own damn fault for not doing anything about it yet. And besides, kissing Clary is just a _thing_ , and everyone knows those expire pretty quickly.

 

 

 

“Have you ever, like, hooked up with another Shadowhunter before?”

Clary’s voice trips awkwardly over the question, but it’s a good point – before she showed up, the only other Shadowhunters their age at the Institute were her brother and Jace. And Jace is family just as much. She wonders if Clary gets that. She wonders if Clary wants to know about her and Jace. 

Of course, the world of Shadowhunters is much bigger than this one Institute. Clary’s only seen a glimpse, really. 

“A boy in Alicante, once,” she tells her, arches an eyebrow. She’s sitting up in Clary’s bed, sliding off her bracelets and leaving them on the nightstand. “Why?”

Clary’s tracing a pattern on the sheet with one stretched finger, gaze focused on whatever design she’s imagining instead of Isabelle. “Just curious,” she says easily, almost believable. “Just wondered if you were more used to, you know, mysterious faeries and Downworlders.” She says it like a joke, a little closer to believable this time, finally looks up and flashes a grin that seems sincere.

Isabelle’s pretty sure that Clary thinks she’s a lot more experienced than she actually is. True, she’s slept with a few boys – faeries, mundanes, even a werewolf once – but she’d never kissed another girl before Clary. 

She hasn’t seen Meliorn since she asked him about the vampires, before any of this whole kissing-Clary- _thing_ started. Isabelle wonders if Clary realizes that. Isabelle wonders if Clary thinks she’s got a handful of Downworlder flings on the side. 

She doesn’t set the record straight. Telling Clary that would seem a little too much like trying to turn this _thing_ into…something else. And that’s not what Clary’s looking for – not what either of them are looking for. 

Instead, she just smirks as she curls up beside Clary. “You’re mysterious enough, Clary Fray, don’t you worry.”

Clary rolls her eyes, then kisses her, and that’s a whole lot easier to deal with than talking about any of this.

Isabelle kisses her back a little more desperate than usual, a little more like she has something to prove, hard with teeth pressing into Clary’s lip, makes her whimper just a little bit and squirm even closer. Isabelle’s hand slips under Clary’s tank top, makes quick work of unfastening her bra, and with that one little gesture, she’s pushing them just a little further over the line into new territory.

It’s all a bluff on her end, all a big act of knowing what she’s doing even when she’s not entirely sure. Clary makes a little gasp, breathing fast, pushes herself up on her elbows and pulls her shirt over her head. Her chest is rising and falling so quickly, her eyes meet Isabelle’s only for the quickest second before she’s kissing her again, pulling her down as she wriggles back against the pillow, lets Isabelle slide her bra all the way off.

Clary’s hands settle on Isabelle’s hips, fingers splayed, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin, a little shaky, like she’s not sure whether to start tearing Isabelle’s clothes off too, like she’s not really sure how any of this is supposed to go. 

Isabelle’s hand slides up to Clary’s breast, thumb flicking over it like she knows what she’s doing too. Clary’s skin is so warm, and there’s a pink flush spreading down her neck. It makes her runes stand out starkly, and Isabelle curves down to press her mouth to the skin there, slow kisses across her collarbone, then shifting back to go lower, kissing her breasts, her ribs, the dip of skin above her bellybutton.

Clary shivers, and Isabelle flicks her eyes up. Clary’s got her eyes shut, mouth open, breathing in heavy gulps of air, hair flaming and tangled around her face, hands fisted at her sides.

Isabelle curls her fingers around the top of Clary’s leggings, hesitates. Clary opens her eyes, gazes down at her.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Isabelle’s voice is quiet, just above a whisper, and she’s not nervous, she just feels a little like her heart has leapt up into her throat without her noticing, that’s all. She tries to force the feeling down.

Clary swallows, and Isabelle can see her throat muscles constrict from this angle, see the way her chest is rising and falling more calmly, see her press her fingertips into the mattress.

“Yes,” Clary gulps, closes her eyes quickly then opens them again, leans her head back so she’s not looking Isabelle in the eye, “yeah, Isabelle, yes” she says again, a little dazedly.

It feels so good, Clary saying yes like that, Clary wanting this so much. It feels good and warm and terrifying.

Isabelle tries to force that feeling down too.

 

 

 

That night doesn’t change anything. 

They still sneak kisses behind closed doors, keeping this _thing_ close to their chests like the best kind of secret. It’s nothing more, nothing less. There’s too much going on all around them to stop and think, so it’s just something fun to do when they actually get a pause from the chaos of everything.

Clary doesn’t know what to make of her life anymore, that much is obvious. 

There’s so much on the line, and Isabelle has a feeling that if Clary actually wanted to fall in love, she’d give it a shot with Jace or maybe even Simon, but that would be too much to handle when everything is so upside down and new all around her.

So instead she kisses Isabelle, because it’s fun and harmless and they both refuse to put a name to it.

It can’t last much longer. Isabelle knows that, and as long as she knows that, as long as she remembers that, it’s fine.

 

 

 

It’s almost funny, when it happens.

Almost funny because she’s standing right next to Alec when it happens, and her heart goes out a little bit to him, because watching Clary and Jace kissing in the lobby can’t possibly be what he wanted, because it’s easier to let her heart go out to him instead of keeping it in her own chest, or letting it leap back into her throat.

She does watch them, for a moment, watches Jace’s arms go around Clary, watches Clary pushing herself up on her tip toes for the kiss. 

She can’t be sure if Clary even knows she’s standing there, watching the whole spectacle, or if Clary only had eyes for Jace once she came through the Institute doors.

The last thing she needs is for Clary to break away from the kiss and notice her. Isabelle’s pretty sure Clary’s the kind of girl who would at least look guilty, who would flush all pink and pretty and want to stammer something out, even if there’s nothing she would say in front of everyone else, even if there’s nothing _to_ say, because it’s not like Isabelle didn’t know this was bound to happen.

Alec’s stiff beside her, jaw clenched, ducking his head with a little shake, and Isabelle focuses her attention on him, although it’s harder to tear her eyes away from Jace and Clary than she would have expected. 

“Come on,” she says quietly, nods her head in the direction of the hall and follows after Alec when he leaves. 

She wishes that she didn’t care enough to look back, but she does anyway, one last glimpse at the pair of them, not kissing anymore, just talking quietly, Jace’s arms still around Clary, that tiny little smile back on Clary’s face.

She’s not jealous, she’s not hurt, she’s not going to be sick, or anything like that. She’s just a little numb all the way down to her toes, except for her heart beating furiously fast against her ribcage, threatening to leap right back out again, threatening to burst out of her chest this time and spray blood all over the hallway.

Alec says something about training and she nods distractedly, stops and just watches him walk off, leaving her all alone.

She wills her heart to go as numb as the rest of her, swallows hard and closes her eyes, allows herself one second of bitterness, then opens her eyes again.

There.

She’s fine.

She’s standing right outside Clary’s bedroom, which almost makes her laugh, but she’s gone too numb. She considers slipping inside and taking her dress back, just to make some kind of statement, but it feels entirely too petty, so she doesn’t.

Maybe she’ll go write a letter to Meliorn, arrange their next secret rendez-vous. Meliorn’s a much better kind of secret, too familiar to be mysterious anymore.

Clary wasn’t that mysterious in the end, though, Isabelle thinks, does her best not to picture her kissing Jace all over again, even though it’s impossible. 

Clary wasn’t mysterious at all, just perfectly predictable.

 

 


End file.
